


Heartfelt Deception; As life would have it

by DeathjunkE



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, M/M, Multi, Murder, Suicide, Unrequited Love, poligamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-06
Updated: 2009-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wanted to remember him and stay faithful, but you were there right in front of me and I wanted you so badly. I wanted what you were giving me and so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartfelt Deception; As life would have it

**Author's Note:**

> Ron/Hermione/Harry & Ron/Draco  
> Brace yourself, this wont be short.
> 
> Darmstrung isn’t in Russia or anywhere else I’m changing the geographical situation completely.
> 
> Draco makes his appearance after Ron leaves Catch Pole
> 
> This is in a pretty new writing style for me, I hope you like it.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Warnings:**
> 
>  **ANGST** (I feel the need to put that out there), **Character Death, Violence, Liberal use of Expletives and Derogatory Slurs, Sex, Sexual References/Themes, Homosexual Relationships, Some what Unrequited Love and all around lack of happy.… I think that covers it.**

**< b>Prompt:</b>**

"Now the time has come.

I put two bullets in my gun.

One for me, and one for you.

Oh darling, it will be so beautiful."

\- Misery

 **//////////////////////////////////**

Catch Pole as told By Ron

 

 

 

I’ll never forget the way we were, in that old backwater town. Everything was stagnant. Nothing ever changed; there was an odd kind of comfort in that. You knew what to expect and when to expect it. You knew the unspoken rules and how to get over on the spoken ones. You knew how far you could go, and could still hear your mother’s voice when she called out the door for you to get back home. You knew where to get the best shaved-ice on hot summer days.  You knew that if you wore hand me downs or spoke like you were from Burrow Hills you couldn’t be seen on Luxus Drive with out a resident acting as your escort.

 

Catch Pole was divided into three areas.

 

Luxus Drive, where the better off of Catch Pole lived. Doctors, lawyers and other white collared professionals lived in the large homes with lawns and property that stretched out far behind the houses. Large luxury vehicles were hidden behind automatic garage doors. The kids here wore the best clothes, the newest fashions, spoke to their friends on wireless phones, played Rayman on their Atari Jaguars and eventually went to Hogwarts Private Academy.

 

If you followed the main road you’d come to Mongolia Crescent. Where the cookie cutout houses were each painted cream with pale blue shutters and gray slate roofs.  Lawns were trimmed to exactly at one and a quarter inch high. Family sedans and minivans always graced the driveways. Kids played in the Cul-de-sac while their mothers watched through floral print drapes. Mongolia Crescent --where kids like me weren’t wanted or welcomed.

 

Me, I’m from Burrow Hills; the poorest part of Catch Pole. The place as I remember it, was mostly apartment buildings and small corner Delis, an occasional pawnshop and family homes. There was always somebody in the streets and the kids were interesting. They fought, played, shared balls, jump ropes, and bikes (I’ll pedal, she’ll ride on the handles and you stand on the back pegs), and were rowdy and loud. Almost all of them were Latchkey kids. No one could afford a babysitter or even a nanny. So if you were an only child you were left with an elderly neighbor until you were old enough to be trusted with a house key. If you had siblings then it was different.

 

When I was in kindergarten I’d have to wait with Percy and the twins for Bill come get us after he picked up Charlie from middle school and Ginny from daycare. When Bill came for us we’d walk home and eat whatever Mum had left for us that morning. While Bill and Charlie did home work we were sent out to play, with strict instructions keep an eye on Ginny and not to go anywhere near the Moors.

 

When Mum got home she’d start dinner and dad would get home not to long after and when the food was ready. We were called in, and god help you if you were found anywhere near the moors. Mum always walked around with that damn brush in the pocket of her dress --to this day I blame the twins for that.

 

I used to think it was stupid that we weren’t able to go play in the tall grass. When I was nine, I heard about the girl up the street, Luna Lovegood, who was dragged off into the moors by a strange man. She and her father left Catch Pole not long after that.

 

Mum said that there used to be a fourth part of Catch Pole there, it was called Spinners End. I don't know if that’s true or not, but the older people say a kid in red trainers who used to live there set the whole area on fire one night and burned it all to the ground.

 

Sometimes I really miss that place. I don't really know why, but I do. No one was ever really happy there, but no one was ready to slit their throats either.

 

 

I reckon it was because it was so familiar to me—filled with so many memories; Memories of my family, of my school, of the odd things that happened once in a blue moon and my best friends.

 

Hermione and Harry.

 

God.

 

 

It was a while ago, but it still hurts. I guess for you to really understand it all I’ve got to start with them.

 

...Well the truth of the matter is that we, the three of us, never really fit in anywhere.

 

Hermione was a latchkey kid from Luxus Drive with lots of bushy brown hair and braces. She was absolutely brilliant too! The girl was much too smart for the curriculum of Flammel Primary and everyone knew it. The only reason she wasn’t attending middle school was because her parents (Dr. Granger and Dr. Granger) wanted her to learn to get on with her own age group. Their good intentions didn’t do a damn thing, because she walked around with her nose in a book to shut out the whispers about her, (Know it all, brace face… god just look at that hair) and the fake friends that were always trying to use her.

 

But still and all-- She lived for school. It was her ticket to more interesting things and places. She told me once that she wished school would never end—because then she would never be lonely.

 

Harry was a local celebrity and neighborhood pariah.

 

He was famous for the defeat of Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort. He was the leader of a gang that called themselves the Death Eaters. They smuggled drugs and guns through Catch Pole, often recruiting teenagers and getting them caught up in a dirty and nearly inescapable lifestyle.

 

When Detective James Potter broke apart and arrested almost eighty death eaters during a sting operation he incurred the wrath of Riddle. In revenge the leader of the Death Eaters, Tom Riddle (I still think the name is hilarious), put a price on information that came to him about Potter. Sirius Black, James Potter’s best friend, let Tom know their location. Tom came to kill the Potter family and almost succeeded.

 

According to the police report James was killed first --a bullet between his eyes. Then Lily Potter tried to bodily attack Tom, she managed to get the gun away from him, but at the cost of her own life. The bullet went through her chest. Harry not knowing what was happening (being one at the time and all) had picked up the gun and some how managed to shoot Tom in the face. The bullet ricocheted and hit the chandelier shattering it and cutting Harry’s forehead.

 

He became a local legend—the Boy Who Lived.

 

According to gossip he never talked to anyone and was always in some fight or another—because how else would you explain fist shaped bruises on an eight year old?

 

And then there was me.

 

I was the sixth son of a poor family, another face in the crowd. When we went to family reunions they would smile and ask, “Who’re you?” That pissed me off-- even to my own family I was nobody.

 

Bill -- William -- the family called him by his given name, was the eldest boy. From Dad’s first wife (the one that took off and left him with a baby), though he never considered Mum anything but his own mother.

 

Charlie was the sporty and daring brother. The one who studied hard because getting a full scholarship for veterinary school wasn’t going to be easy.

 

Percy was the quiet studious type who could recite fact after fact and smear you across the ground in a debate. He aimed for law school. Percy never would settle for being a nobody. He wanted power and prestige. In my opinion he had politician stamped across his ass since the day he was born.

 

Fred and George are their own special case. They live in a world that revolved around each other. They are both intelligent but they don't use it for anything but mischief. The family knows them as the miracle terror twins.

 

At home we know them as Mum’s favorites.

 

Charlie says it’s because when she was pregnant she was so ill that the doctors told her to choose; it was her life or the twins. She chose the twins. They were born so small and sickly that they weren’t expected to last a week, let alone the year it took them to be released from the hospital.

 

Then there was Ginny. The baby and on top of that the only girl born into the Weasley family for seven generations.

 

My only talent was chess and remembering the play by play of every FIFA game I ever watched. I never stood a chance against the powerhouses of charisma, luck and intellect that are my siblings.

 

That’s why I was so shocked when a scrawny little boy with glasses spoke to me on the morning bus. I’ll never forget the day I met Harry.

 

It was going to be my first day of the third grade and I was wearing my best clothes. A new white collared shirt with a maroon sweater that Percy had out grown over the summer and a pair of Fred and George’s black trousers. My shoes were shiny and polished. You could only see the scuffs Charlie left on them if you looked really close.

 

I sat by myself in the back of the bus as far from the taunting twins as I could. The bus stopped at the beginning of the Mongolia Crescent cul-de-sac. With nothing better to do I watched out the window as four kids lined up to get on the bus. Harry was the first one on the bus and he walked straight to the back. The kid across from me put his feet up on the chair and pretended not to see the scrawny kid with glasses, so when he reached the back of the bus he turned to me and asked, “Can I sit with you?”

 

 

I just moved over and he looked shocked. As if I were going to tell him to sit on the floor or something.

 

It turned out we were in the same class with Mr. Quirrell as our teacher. We sat together in the back of the room toward the windows. We were close friends quickly. We never commented on each other’s hand me downs and I never commented on his new bruises or lack of lunch. I shared my bag lunches with him during break and walked with him to and from the infirmary.

 

It was on one of those walks that we rescued Hermione from Mr. Quirrel. He had trapped her in the corner of the classroom during lunch. I’ll never forget the sight of his hands feverishly trying to rip open her blouse or Mr. Quirrel laid out on the floor from the desk chair Harry said I had thrown at him.

 

When the headmaster had come into the room a few seconds later. He called the Bobbies and they took Quirrel into custody. It turns out he was the one that dragged Luna off into the Moors. 

 

After that day we were inseparable. Instead of Harry and Hermione going home after school they came over to Burrow Hills and we hung out.

 

The daily ritual had changed up. Now Ginny, Harry, Hermione and I would wait for Percy and the twins so we could walk home together. Mum’s work hours had been cut because the children she took care of were getting a too old for a nanny. We’d eat (Mum always made more than we could ever finish) run around the town and then before it became dark we would walk Hermione home to Luxus Drive. Then Harry would walk part of the way back with me (We had to go through Mongolia to get to Luxus).

 

Harry and Hermione became honorary Weasleys. It wasn’t too long before Harry and Hermione progressed from Mrs. Weasley to Aunt Molly, and finally to Mum.

 

It was the three of us all the time.

 

When we went to the Abbot Pizzeria to get shaved ice in the summers-- theirs was the best because they didn’t use syrup. They blended the fruit you chose with juice and poured it over the ice-- I’d order (One large half cherry half blackberry, and one regular lemon) and Hermione would pay. Harry loved the black berry ice, but would always protest when he was given his own ice. To avoid problems caused by Harry’s pride, Hermione would insist on sharing her large dual flavored ice. All it took was one pained grimace and a well placed, “It makes my braces cold and hurts my teeth, so have some Harry.” And his lips would be stained with the purple color of the berries.

 

When we snuck off into the moors and lost track of time all three of us felt the sting from the broad back of Mum’s brush until we were in tears, howling insincere promises and marched back to the house for dinner in suddenly uncomfortable chairs.

 

Then Harry’s Godfather Sirius Black appeared at my house to kill Peter Pettigrew, the man who rented the basement flat of my house, under the name or Gregory Peters. Peter, who turned out to be the one who sold out the Potters escaped Catch Pole in his black Toyota. Sirius went on the run a week later when he heard the Bobbies asking around for him, promising to write Harry and giving him a little black mutt puppy (we learned later that it was a Newfoundland and Bull Mastiff mix). Mum said she would keep the letters for him and Hermione said she’d keep the dog for Harry. That’s how Padfoot joined us.

 

When Harry and I were drilled mercilessly in subjects that we had never heard of and high school level drills of the things we were learning by Hermione.

 

“You have to get good grades! My mother said I’m to go to Hogwarts Academy! You two can get in on scholarship if you score high enough on the entrance exams. Don't you want to stay together?”

 

We’d study extra hard for a week after that proclamation, then slack off until the next time Hermione guilt-tripped us.

 

When my report card was found in the morning post, Mum was ecstatic. I had received straight A’s.

 

The next day at school, Harry was nowhere to be found. Three more days passed until I saw him in a horrible state. He wore his large gray sweatshirt, the one that covered even his hands when he decided to not roll up the sleeves. He limped and had a split lip.

 

He limped through the streets with Ginny, Hermione and I absolutely silent. He didn’t speak a single word until my mother pulled open the door and let us in. Once she closed the door he turned on his heel and pulled a crumpled stained piece of blue paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and I saw drops of brown and a footprint on the sheet.

 

“Did I do well?” he whispered to her as He held it up to Mum and that’s when I realized the whole thing was covered in tape as if it was ripped several times then carefully pieced back together.

 

Mum read it and smiled widely. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. The kiss was nothing special to me but it made Harry so happy I thought he would cry.

 

Unbreakable Harry, the toughest eleven year old I ever knew. Who never once cried when Dudley, Piers and Derrick jumped us in the back allies or tripped him down the stairs at school.

 

I was so focused on the paper that I nearly missed the giant hand shaped bruises and red scrapes that showed on Harry’s arm when his sleeve fell back.

 

Mum saw them and told Harry to go into the bedroom and wait for her. Hermione and I were ordered outside. We did leave the house only to climb on top of the trash bins to eavesdrop.

 

It was difficult to watch Mum strip my shaking and protesting best friend. We watched avidly as each new injury was unveiled and treated by my Mum’s thick warm hands. By the time she finished treating him it was dark out and they were both in tears.

 

I didn’t realize Hermione and I were crying too until I felt the tear drops splatter onto my hands.

 

Mum held him for a long time. He fell asleep in her arms. When she left the room and we climbed in through the window. Hermione got a cool damp washcloth room the bathroom and wiped Harry’s face with it before folding it in half and wiping any traces of tears from mine before she wiped her own. She was always like that, really thoughtful.

 

We climbed into bed with Harry for the first time that night. It was completely innocent then. It didn’t stay that way though.

 

The years after that night brought us closer together and changed us. My hair got longer, my shoulders got wider and I was the tallest fifteen year old at school. Hermione got taller too, her body also began to fill itself out, her hips and thighs accumulated more flesh and her chest started to swell and become prominent. She turned heads when we walked through the halls but she never looked beyond Harry and I. Harry was just as tall as Hermione and had some how gained the body of a track star. Though he was no longer rail thin he still swam in his cousin’s cast off clothing.

 

Harry stayed with my family three days out of the week.

 

Our house was small for our numbers, but we managed. The house had three bedrooms and two baths. Ginny and Percy shared a room that was separated by a thick green curtain.  The twins shared one queen-sized bed and Harry and I shared the other one on the other side of the room we had split with them. Mum and Dad had their own room and bathroom.

 

We were old enough to walk to and from school and Mum still packed us lunch. We’d walk up through Mongolia Crescent all the way Luxus to Hermione’s place to eat breakfast before we caught the shuttle bus to Hogwarts academy.

 

After school the shuttle would drop us off at Hermione’s. She’d run to get her radio (She always had the best stuff, I always drooled over that Aiwa CS-M1) while Harry leashed Padfoot. Once ready we’d head down to Burrow Hills.

 

We were comfortable with each other. We were more than friends. We were partners, companions and more. It was hard to explain because we were so intertwined. Sometimes I couldn’t tell where my personality began or ended; it was like we were one extreme entity.

 

When we rolled around in the tall grass a tangle of lips, tongues, teeth hands and legs, I was happiest—we all were.

 

I wasn’t the sixth son, the faceless nobody. I was Ron, the guy who could make Hermione tremble and keen when I ran my hand up her thigh, under her skirt and pushed the heel of my hand into her most intimate of places.

 

I was Ron, the guy who was allowed to leave hickey necklaces on Harry’s neck. So that when he returned to that hell at number four, he could remember that he was loved.

 

Harry took all he could from these trysts. To him it was proof that he wasn’t repulsive, or a burden that was unable to be loved or treated with care. He once told me that with each and every pump of my hips he felt validated—more human. When he slid into Hermione, being pushed forward at the pace I had set, he would clench with pleasure and moan into her hair as his nails brought forth red lines across her back.

 

Our romps to Hermione were a promise, a promise that she wouldn’t be left alone. That she was seen as a real person. Not just the consumer, the obligatory fifty pounds left on the kitchen table by the Doctors Granger every Thursday.

 

She would throw her arms over Harry’s shoulders when she straddled his lap, filled with his flesh. Her arms wound and stretched over my own shoulders as well, and dig her nails into my shoulder blades. No matter whom she rode during our lusty moor visits, I always ended up with Hermione’s nails digging into my back.

 

Now that we were older we spread out further and lost the fear of being caught in the moors. We frequented there often for many reasons. We went to have sex, to play with Padfoot, to eat the black berries off of the bushes that grew like weeds, to listen to music and explore the old mil all the way on the other side of the moors by the river.

 

We lost track of time when we were playing fetch with Pads one night. Mum caught us once more in the moors and thoroughly corrected our collective belief that we were too old to be paddled with that goddamn brush. That incident led to earnest tears, another uncomfortable dinner and Harry going home that night.

 

The day after all three of us were squirming in our seats on the bus, compliments of Mum. When Harry snapped his fingers and dug through his backpack.

 

“Dudley had gotten two for his birthday, so he threw away this one. I fished it out of the bin and thought we could listen to it today.”

 

He flipped the cassette tape in my direction and I caught it. One glance at the cover was all I needed to loose my sulk. “OPIATE! How the hell did he get this!? They don't sell Tool cassettes in the UK.”

 

“Marge went to the states for vacation and brought it for Duds, but he wrecked his cassette player so that Aunt Petunia would get him a CD player instead. So he brought the CD.”

 

Hermione sniffed disdainfully, she had a deep frown on her face like she always did whenever the subject of Harry’s family came up. “We’ll have to get new batteries for my radio so we can listen to it.” She blew a small bubble and bit down on it popping it. She had taken to chewing Bubble Yum Bubble gum after her braces came off.  “So where will we go? Hannah said her family was going out of town this week so the pizza shop is closed.”

 

Harry glanced out of the window at the passing houses and smiled lightly. “Lets head back to the moors.”

 

“You’ve gone mental, haven’t you?” I just couldn’t imagine going there so soon after we were thoroughly chewed out and smacked for being there not even twenty four hours ago. “Mum would go ape shit.”

 

“See we got in trouble yesterday, so she wouldn’t think to look for us there—and we just have to set the alarm on your watch so we aren’t late to dinner. Just think about it.” When he looked me in the eye I knew I was going to loose on this one. If he looked me in the eye and asked me to gnaw off my left arm, I would. His gaze was always so intense and filled with everything he felt. They were green, but not the normal green gray or brownish green. His eyes were green like fresh cut grass put into a Heineken bottle and held up to the sun, the purest green I had ever seen.

 

During times like this when we were planning mischief of one sort or another, those eyes I loved would glow with joy. I simply couldn’t resist them. I often wonder what would have happened if I learned to.

 

We got off of the bus at Hermione’s house and leashed up pads while Hermione hunted up her money and radio. As we walked through Mongolia I began to shiver, I didn’t feel cold but I still shivered.

 

Now that I look back on it I wonder if it was a sign of some sort.

 

Harry, ever kind and helpful, loaned me his sweatshirt. The thing was so thick and heavy that it was stifling and it was so large the twins could have probably fit in there with me.  It was soft from constant use, and thumped against the back of my calves as I walked. But it smelled like Harry and stopped my chills so I didn’t think anything of it.

 

Before long we were down in the moors again and found things to entertain ourselves with. Pads was off chasing rabbits. I was flipping through the pamphlet that came with the Tool cassette reading as I listened to the words. Harry was crouched near a blackberry bush yanking off the berries and eating them by the fistful. Hermione was flipping through that day’s paper. With her usual enthusiasm for anything printed.

 

The music was blaring in the comfortable silence between us. The rhythm was jerky almost erratic yet repetitive. I didn’t care too much I had listened to Tool for the lyrics.

 

You know the song I’m talking about. You’ve heard me sing it often enough…

 

I know you well.

You are a part of me.

I know you better than I know myself.

I know you best,

better than anyone.

I know you better than I know myself.

 

The song reminded me of the three of us, it always will.  Not only for the lyrics but for the way our haven was shattered while it blared into the air.

 

Hermione stood up and came over settling herself in my lap. She leaned forward and draped her arms over my shoulders. “Quirrel’s sentence is up. They gave him only five years for attempted assault—Luna didn’t testify so they couldn’t charge him with rape... He’s coming back, Ron.”

 

“We’re at a different school now,” I hadn’t seen Harry come over but I felt him join Hermione on my lap his chest pressing against her back. “Besides if he tries anything Ron and I will be there. Just like last time.” He kissed her neck lightly one of his hands training down her chest to grab a handful of her breast, as I kissed her lips.

 

When we broke apart for air Hermione turned back and caught Harry’s mouth with her own. After a moment I leaned forward stretching past Hermione and land a sharp nip on Harry’s ear. “I’ll be hurt if you forget about me.”

 

He pulled away breathless and he turned those huge green eyes on me and smiled. “We can’t have that, now can we?”

 

He leaned forward and kissed me. His lips were average sized, his top lip scabbed in the middle from when he nibbled it during tricky questions on tests, slick from the residue of Hermione’s gloss and bittersweet from the berries that he somehow he always managed to across his face.

 

This was how things usually started for us. That night it was how it ended.

 

I put a hand on his shoulder and then he was gone. Hermione turned and I looked around to see the great beast of a man Vernon Dursley shouting and carrying on. Not too far behind him was his walrus of a son, Dudley.

 

Sure I had seen the whale called Vernon previously to this encounter but it was never for more than the split second it took for Harry to duck out of the house. And, yes, I knew Vernon beat Harry —but I had never even thought about how bad it was.

 

He turned plum as he bellowed in Harry’s face his hands were unhitching his belt but I hadn’t realized what was going to happen until too late. He wrapped the loose leather around his hand and swung his arm in a huge arch over his head. It slammed across Harry’s chest with a sickening crack.

 

Harry’s screams were drowned out by Vernon’s thunderous shouts, he called him foul things.

 

“UNATURAL LITTLE FREAK...DISGUSTING LITTLE FUCKING SHIRTLIFTER… BRING THAT POISON INTO MY HOME! LIKE YOUR SHIT BAG PARENTS! …ASS BANDIT... QUEEN!”

 

I don't really know what happened that night. I mean I was there and all but I can’t remember. Hermione –god bless her, she’s like a walking brain with tits— says that it was my minds way of coping with the stress and shock.

 

When I came back to my senses the blood was rushing loud in my ears. I dropped the stick in my hand, my arms were burning and there was something cold dribbling down my hands and on my face. Vernon Dursley was laid out before me his head smashed open. Clumps of pink meat and splinters were everywhere.

 

There were only three specks of pink on the sleeve of Harry’s sweatshirt. Hermione told me to sit with Harry and she would run for help.

 

Fat ass junior was a bit away trying to fend off a few yards of was screaming at me. I don't know what he was saying and I didn’t care. Harry was all that mattered now, his eyes were wide open and I could see my reflection in them.

 

I held one of his hands in my own not caring that I got blood on him. His hands in my own. They were so warm then.

 

I’m not sure how long it took for the ambulance to come.

I was so out of it.

 

Hermione told me that when Vernon hit Harry a third time I had rushed in and tried to stop him. She did too, for her efforts she got a gash down the right side of her face, from that heavy leather belt. Then Padfoot came back barking and growling trying his best to drag Harry out of harms way.

 

Hermione said that I picked up the stick and stated to bash Vernon over the head. He didn’t stop beating Harry until I cracked his head open. Harry stopped breathing when the belt slammed into his neck snapping it.

 

I only remember little snatches of time after that, you know.

 

I remember how Harry’s aunt-- a horrible little woman named Tulip or something-- skinny as hell and a face like a horse. She was screaming at me in the hospital—crying.

 

“You killed him! Murderer!”

 

The next time I saw her was when one of the hospital attendants asked after funeral arrangements for Harry.

 

She just laughed, shrill and delirious, “Let the little fuck rot for all I care. My poor Vernon! Vernon’s dead because of that filthy little brat.”

 

I couldn’t believe it! Her fat shit of a husband beat her nephew to death …and she laughed …and she felt bad for the murdering fuck.

 

Mum got so worked up that she punched Violet (it was some flower or another) across the jaw and chased her out of the room with a bedpan. I’ve never seen my own Mum like that before. She turned to the man and told him that the family would make Harry’s arrangements.

 

I remember snatches of the funeral too.

 

Harry’s casket was white. Hermione held my hand the whole time, Daisy never showed. Mum was a mess, she sobbed so much that she couldn’t breathe.

 

My eyes were dry throughout the funeral, I couldn’t cry. I wanted to but I couldn’t. It was like I couldn’t understand what happened where Harry had gone. I was numb.

 

The trip to the lawyer was surprising.

 

As it turned out Sirius had never been given a trial. So he was still responsible for Harry’s trust funds and financial inheritance. James Potter was the son of a wealthy banking family, old money. Sirius divided the money into two and signed off portions to Hermione and I. We would inherit it on our twenty-first birthdays. After that he broke into the Dursleys place and killed both mother and son before shooting himself in the head (odd enough he left us his money too).

 

We (though really it was mostly Hermione and Ginny) cleaned out the place. That was the day I had cried. I opened the door to the pantry -- I couldn’t understand why there were so many locks on the door-- and was hit by Harry’s scent. It smelled just like him, like wet cut grass and soap and black berries. That’s when I realized it was Harry’s room, if you could call it that.

 

There was a red plastic bucket in the corner next to it was a roll of toilet tissue. I felt sick, but I kept going. There was a small pile of folded clothes next to them was a shoe box, all of Harry’s hand me downs. The sorry bastards didn’t even give him a proper blanket. In another corner there was a nest of old rags and sheets, all filthy and blood stained.

 

Pinned on one of the impossibly white walls of the pantry was Harry’s jersey. It was from the time Dad got lucky and won a radio contest that paid for ten people to go see the FIFA 1993 championship. Harry and Hermione both brought Ghana jerseys, the rest of us rooted for the other team.

 

Looking at that jersey, surrounded by Harry’s scent was what pushed me into a total breakdown. His stuff was all still here and smelled like him—it was like he had just been here! But I couldn’t find him, couldn’t see him, talk to him or leave hickey necklaces around his neck when we slipped off to the moors.

 

That night I spent in my mother’s bed, sobbing. The next day I woke up and went to school. Harry’s chair was empty and I felt sick.

 

I left school early and walked around Catch Pole to clear my mind but everything pulled memories of Harry to the forefront of my mind and I couldn’t stop from turning to my right to take a glance at the person I wished to be there.

 

The next day dad dropped me off to school.

 

So I wouldn’t have to look at his empty chair I read the textbook like I never had before. When I was reading and working I couldn’t think about Harry so that’s what I did. I threw my self wholeheartedly into studying and school.

 

I only slept when I was so tired that I couldn’t stand upright. I only ate the breakfasts that Hermione shoved in my face when I met her on the shuttle to Hogwarts.

 

Summer passed in a haze for me. I remember sitting with Hermione in her bedroom. Some times we talked sometimes we read. She tried to get me to play her Nintendo—before Harry… I used to always hound her to play it, I loved Donkey Kong. Once we tried to kiss but couldn’t do so with out feeling guilty, Harry wasn’t there with us and never would be again.

 

Eventually Hermione became the only person could stand to be around for more than ten minutes. I’d lock my self in the bathroom or troop off to the library to get away from my family.

 

I don't know for how long this went on before the night my mother decided that I had to leave Catch Pole. At first I disagreed I threw fits tantrums and had even run off one time. They didn’t give it up and kept pushing. It was too soon to deal with so much, after a while I just stopped functioning all together; I didn’t talk, didn’t eat and didn’t sleep. I was a complete zombie. They called Bill and Charlie to come see me off, it didn’t work that way.

 

I refused to go with out a fight. I kicked screamed and punched. I fought as hard as I could. I remember my Mum and Fred were holding Hermione back; she was crying and fighting too. It took Dad, Bill, Charlie and George to get me into the back seat of that car. They restrained me too. They tied my hands up and made Bill sit with me to make sure I didn’t hurt my self.

 

I took six hours to get to Little Haggleton. The funny thing is I remember every minute of that drive. I cried for most of it. Made myself completely sick twice, we had to pull over so that I could throw up on the side of the road.

 

Poor Bill didn’t know how to shut off the water works. When I saw the town I managed to worm my way into Bill’s lap and curl up there, I begged him to not let them take me away. I wanted to stay in Catch Pole with Hermione and Padfoot, with Harry’s grave.

 

Dad made Bill switch with him. Dad was in the back seat while Bill drove and Charlie watched me from the corner of his eye. No one had ever seen me go to pieces like that before. Dad tried to hold me and calm me down like he did when I was a kid. I didn’t want him to touch me. Every time he did I screamed, bit at, or hurt him anyway I could. 

 

When we got to Durmstrang I really panicked. I began to hyperventilate Charlie climbed into the back seat with me when dad got out to go speak with the headmaster. They stood in front of the car and spoke.

 

I was a complete and utter mess screaming, “Please Daddy! Please!”

 

Dad unloaded my trunk and followed the headmaster to my room. My brothers pulled me from the car and frog marched me to my single dorm room. My brothers dumped me on the bed and ducked out of the room with whispered goodbyes.

 

Dad stayed to talk to me. He squatted by the bed so that he was on my level and could make eye contact. He pressed his own big hands over my wrist. My hands were tied in front of me, and I couldn’t free them or move them from his grip. I was still crying and sobbing. My voice had given out on the trip to the dorms.

 

“Listen to me, Ron.” He whispered, “I know you don't want to hear this now, but this is for your own good. What you’ve been doing lately—it’s not healthy. You need to eat you need to sleep and you need to talk to someone besides Hermione. You two depend on each other to the point where you are forgetting how to function.

 

I really think a change of scene will help you. I know it hasn’t been easy for you with Harry’s Death--”

 

My voice came back in a flash I screamed and tried to wrench my hands away from his hold but I couldn’t. I screamed and I shouted and I cursed. After a while I had managed to tire my self out. I flopped to the side my chest heaving and burning.

 

Dad shifted forward until he was level with my face once more. “Ronnie, you’ve got to come to terms with it you can’t just pitch a fit when ever someone mentions him. That’s why you need to be here, they have counseling available for all students. And you passed the tests for entry months ago. They say you’re brilliant! Not one question wrong.” He tried to smile for me but it was a sad smile. “You’ve gotten a full scholarship too, isn’t that great!”

 

By that time I had calmed my breathing enough to speak a coherent sentence. “Dad, I want to go home. Daddy please… ”

 

He looked like he was in pain for a minute before he started talking again. “Look your dorm room is a single. Do you remember how you always wanted your own room?”

 

“I’ll share with the twins, really, I don't mind. Dad, please, I want to go home! Please daddy.” Now that I think of it, it should have been awkward to call my father ‘daddy’ then. Before that I day I hadn’t called him daddy since I was four.

 

He kissed my forehead and shook his head the negative before untying my hands. “No Ronald, you will stay here.”

 

Was so drained, my chest hurt, my eyes hurt, my head hurt and my throat was to sore to stand anything other than a whisper. “I hate you…”

 

Dad stood and looked ready to come to tears himself. I felt a little gratification at that. “You don't mean that, it’s the grief talking.”

 

“No. I hate you, I really hate you.” Dad rushed from the room after that, and I stared at the wall. I don't know when I fell asleep but I know I woke up with a kick ass headache. My throat and chest were sore and my eyes were practically glued shut.

 

I didn’t move from my bed for two days. When Monday rolled around I was still wearing the clothes I had worn on Friday, Harry’s gray sweat jacket, a white polo and jeans. I had never even taken off my shoes.

 

I had only gotten up because the headmaster was pounding at my door. My actions had nothing to do with his threats of write-ups for truancy and everything to do with my cursing him out.

 

Anyway I made it to class.

 

The first two weeks of school were a blur. I remember all of the whispers and gossip. People really should learn to at least whisper. I mean to be honest almost all of the rumors were right in one way or another.

 

They said I was a murderer. And well --Yes, I did kill Dursley-- But it wasn’t exactly murder. It took a while to admit that to myself too.

 

They called me a genius-- Don't laugh! They actually gave me one of those IQ test before I could be accepted to Hogwarts. My score rank was 195 so ha! Eat it!

 

There where whispers about me playing for the home team, they weren’t all completely wrong on that one either.

 

There were rumors that my score on the Durmstrang admittance test was perfect. Which it was, but still I thought that stuff was confidential.

 

They said I was related to the school’s chairman and that I was dirt poor. Both true.

 

They said I was a druggie from rehab, a complete lie. My mother would have had my head on a pike if I came with in ten feet of the stuff.

 

No Malfloy, fags don't count’s and besides I didn’t start smoking until later. Bulstrode—you know her! The only girl in the whole of Durmstrang! Stocky, round face, umm lets see you have to know her she was the principal’s daughter. She dated Daphne Greengrass from Beauxbatons. Yeah _now_ you remember. You’re a horrible perv you know. Well anyway she gave me my first cig, it was right nice of her to do so too. I was a wreck that firs’ week.

 

I could barely function let alone pay attention.  When they put tests or work sheets in front of me then it was automatic. I just did them, but I never needed to think or anything. After the first two weeks everyone else’s excitement was gone and I was just another guy.

 

Then came Latin class. They had changed my schedule completely to make room for parent requested counseling so I had to take Latin at seven am instead of Spanish at nine.

 

The first day of class I was completely knackered, grumpy and unprepared. I had no notebook, textbook or even a pen. I sat at the back of the room in the last desk of the last row, as far from the window as possible and stared at my hands blocking every thing out.

 

Then you strutted in there like the bright and charming prat you were! The day that I met you was another unforgettable day.

 

I’m sure you remember it. You do, don't you? I see that smirk.

 

I thought you were the biggest cunt on this side of the pond with an ego the size of Australia. You strode up to me in full uniform. Your blue pants creased, your shirt white, starched and tucked in, your sweater vest slightly loose and your blazer over your arm, the very picture of one of those rich little academy ponces off of the telly.

 

You swept in and looked down your nose at me and me and said “Ginger, get out of my chair.”

 

What do you mean what was I supposed to say? How about something like ‘excuse me’ or ‘I usually sit here’ or anything polite. And I am not ginger!

 

\--Okay maybe I am, don't look at me like that.

 

Anyway after I told you to pull your head out of your ass I asked Bulstrode who you were, do you know what she told me?

 

She snorted and handed me her fag. “Cherry picker Malfloy.”

 

I was completely confused; I had no clue why someone would name their kid cherry picker. Then she told me all about your hobby at the time. Don't bother denying, I’ve got proof. You fucked every new virgin ass that came through the Durmstrang gates and I heard you skipped over to Beauxbatons to pick a cherry or ten.

 

I thought she was full of shit until you came to me in the locker room. You came in half naked and stood in front of me like the ass you were.

 

I still laugh about it now. You stood there akimbo with that superior look on your face and said, “Weasley. Why aren’t you wearing school issued underwear?”  I ignored you. Then, “Weasley! Take them off!”

 

God, you tried to rip off my pants on our second meeting. I mean I knew I was hot, but damn talk about an ego boost! But you wouldn’t leave me alone. You followed me in the hall always asking questions;

 

         “Weasley, come and watch me try out for the football team.”

 

         “So Weasley, is it true that you can cook? God that’s so plebeian, there’s a full kitchen staff at the manor?”

 

         “My friend Marcus sent me some fags but I don't smoke, here.

 

         “You’ve got to have more clothes than sweatshirt. I’ve seen the boxes you get on mail days. Don't you ever write home?”

 

         “Snape isn’t that bad outside of the labs. I think he’s from your hometown. But he doesn’t talk about it, he said he would’ve gone insane if he didn’t leave Spinners end.

 

         “How was counseling? You didn’t said a word to Umbitch didn’t you?”

 

God you were such a persistent git, damn critical too.

 

         “What are you listening too Weasley?”        

 

“Tool.”

 

“Why they’re horrible?”

 

“What! You’re mental! There the best!” that was the first time that I felt like my old self. I used to always get worked up before you knew me. Over the stupidest things too! But for a moment I felt normal—like my old self and I loved it.

 

Somehow you managed to worm in through the numb and get to me for little moments. The moments came more often and then whenever I was next to you I wasn’t numb anymore.

 

Sometime in November, Hermione had come to visit me. She caught a cab up to Durmstrang and brought Padfoot with her. Because she didn’t have an adult with her she couldn’t come onto the school grounds. So we sat with the iron fence between us and we talked.

 

We held hands the whole time. She told me what was happening in Catch Pole. Dudley’s old gang had vandalized Harry’s grave and the Dursley house was given to Vernon’s sister. According to ‘Mionie, she was a huge whale of a woman who bred ugly dogs. She asked me how things were here.

 

I told her what I could about classes, the teachers, the food and my oh-so-silent counseling sessions. I hadn’t mentioned you once. After a while I had nothing to say and neither did she.

 

I was petting Paddy through the bars and I looked at her. She looked off, her hair wasn’t wild and bushy but pulled back in a shabby bun she was wearing one of my old knitted made sweaters (a maroon one I never liked, Hermione borrowed it one day I never asked for it back) so I thought that was why she looked so small, she was pale also the scar on her face had bubbled become bright pink and puffed outward.

 

When her cab had come back she leaned forward and I did to. We kissed with the bars pressed into our faces and I could feel her trembling before we pulled away. She smiled at me when she stood up. Her scar moved when her cheeks moved. I felt sick to my stomach.

 

I watched her leave then headed back to the dorms. When I got back to my room I felt guilty.

 

Behind the walls of Durmstrang I had forgotten the world I had come from. I had left Catch Pole behind and had begun to focus exclusively on my classes and you. I won’t lie, it was such a heady feeling knowing that I could forget that a world existed outside of Durmstrang for a few hours. But it was my guilty pleasure, my vice.

 

I wore Harry’s gray hoodies everyday and listened to the tape he died for (turns out the reason Dursley was in the Moors was because Dudley said Harry stole it from him) so that I couldn’t forget him.

 

I wanted to remember him and stay faithful, but you were there right in front of me and I wanted you so badly. I wanted what you were giving me and so much more.

 

The bold damp kisses you gave me were addicting and became less and less satisfying as time wore on. I told myself that I had to stop, but I didn’t. I just dove deeper and deeper into my attraction to you.

 

It was mid-December when we went further than kissing. God I was so confused. I loved it and I was so happy, but I hated myself for clinging to you. I swore I knew better, you were nothing like Harry, and from what Bulstrode said after you bedded me I would be out on my ear, not to mention that I always thought you were out of my league.

 

You were born into money and never had to look at a price tag or wear hand-me-downs. I know you think every one’s out of your league, but I actually was—still am to be honest.

 

We were playing chess on my bed—well I played you just moved pieces around on the board. You were terrible and I couldn’t help but laugh. It was so mundane, so fun and so normal that I hadn’t even realized that I had said his name. It had just slipped out so easily.

 

“God you’re worse than Harry!”

 

You scowled and asked, “Who’s Harry?”

 

“A friend of mine, my best friend.”

 

It felt good to talk about him even if it was only that. But of course you had to be a prat and ruin it. “I didn’t think you had any.”

 

“You’re polite, asshole.”

 

“Well the only person I ever saw you talk to was that ugly bint with the scarred face and you never send out letters so...”

 

“Get the fuck away from me Malfloy.” I was so…. I don't even know how I felt. I just know I wanted you away from me.

 

“No, we’re still playing a game. And it’s your turn.”

 

I wanted you out of my room so I flipped the board off the bed. It was so quiet that I heard the pieces rolling around across the floor and skittering everywhere. “Game over. You can leave now.”

 

You crawled into my lap and smirked. “But I don't want to.”

 

  

  1. You pulled off my sweat shirt and hitched my tee up to my neck. 
  



 

Then you licked me.

 

It was new to me then. You licked my collar bone, my nipples, my stomach, my navel… you were everywhere! Hell you even licked my toes! I didn’t realize I you stripped me until you were biting my ass!

 

Your dick really had me in a fix I’ll let you know. I know it’s not long but it was thick and tapered and I felt your pulse in me. It made me right scared.

 

That was the first time I had ever been on the receiving end you know. And I remember it so well Draco. When you slipped in the first finger I hated it and tried my best to squirm away but you just yanked my ankle and pulled me back to you. Then came the second and it stung. By the time you had your dick in me I was in tears it hurt so badly.

 

But then you moved and the pain was bearable. After I got used to the feeling it started to become pleasant and then you were going too slow for my taste. I had to do something, but you wouldn’t let me.

 

When I lifted my hips you shoved them back down. When I pushed against you, you pulled back further. You drove me up the wall ‘til I found it in my self to pull my body up. When I did I managed to get you under me and then I took control.

 

I rode you like my life depended on it. All I could think of was ways to get you deeper in me. You came first that time—I could feel the muscles in your stomach clench under my fingers and it felt so odd to me at the time after a little longer I really didn’t care.

 

Hell the world could have been blown to bits and I wouldn’t have noticed at all. Now that I think back on the experience it wasn’t all that great, it wasn’t mind blowing or fantastic but it meant a lot to me. 

 

Yeah I know it sounds odd coming from me, the guy with the emotional range of a teaspoon—or so I’ve been told. But I can’t really lie to you now, well I can but it wouldn’t be too smart.

 

It’s just that… for me all there was that moment. Nothing else even existed not past not future. Just then and there and god… I felt. I was angry. I was happy. I was tired. I was excited. I was everything all at once and all I saw was your face every time I lifted myself off of your cock.

 

Your eyes were barely open like your eyelids were heavy weights but they were so focused on me that I couldn’t help but blush. And your mouth was open and purple from that damn lolli you stole from me. When I kissed you afterward I couldn’t taste anything but grape.

 

After that I could breathe so much easier. We fucked, we joked and we were us.

 

You didn’t just drop me to the wayside after we rutted the first time. Even after we fooled around ‘til I couldn’t count our encounters anymore, you still walked besides me and got me packs of Regals even though you said you hated the smell of cig smoke on my clothes. It never even dawned on me that you had become interested in me until family day.

 

I was still bitter about my parents sending me off against my will so I had refused to see them or my brothers. So I camped out in your dorm. I wasn’t expecting your father to walk into the room while I was lighting up a cig.

 

We just stared at each other until you came in and started speaking French. I was glad that Hermione had taught Harry and I the basics of French.

 

“ _Papa, ceci est Ron. Veuillez être aimable avec lui_.” You told him to be kind. I think that was the tip off.

 

He gave me this look like you wouldn’t believe, like I was fucking a rotting corpse. I hated it—like I didn’t already know that I wasn’t from the same place the same upper crust society.

 

He looked down at me and saw all that was; the school charity box, the little poor boy, the betrayer, the murderer, the sixth son.

 

I can’t tell you what came over me—I just…I just… Hell if I know.

I took a deep drag from that fag and let the smoke hold in my lungs before snorting it out through my nose.  I pulled out the cig and walked over I leaned down and kissed you like I hadn’t before. I kissed you with everything I had, like I used to kiss Harry.

 

With my hands in my pockets, my eyes lowered so I could watch you through my lashes and softly with my mouth slightly open so that I could swallow all the sounds you’d make.

 

You didn’t kiss me back. I think you were in shock, I know your dad was. Hell, I just I couldn’t help myself.

 

“ _Je sais que vous ne vous inquiétez pas du goût des cigarettes, mais vous ne m'embrasserez pas en arrière comme vous faites toujours ? Votre père ne peut pas m'aimer mais j'espère qu'il n'a pas changé votre avis au sujet de moi_.”

 

[ _I know you don't care for the taste of cigarettes, but won’t you kiss me back like you always do? Your father may not like me but I hope he hasn't changed your opinion about me._ ]

 

I pulled away and walked out.

 

I spent the rest of the day will Bulstrode and her girlfriend. That was an enlightening (though disturbing) experience. (Did you know Bulstrode met Daphne in a men’s bathroom—the thing I didn’t understand was why they were there. Bulstrode said the line for the ladies room was too long but I think she wanted to sneak a peek)

 

 

Anyway I didn’t realize that my actions would have such an impact on you. I didn’t know your father was homophobic… I didn’t know that you’d be disowned.

 

I’m so sorry for it. I really didn’t know. I would have taken care of you—really I would have, Sirius and Harry left me more than enough. I can buy out your father’s company a thousand times over without a second thought. I would have taken care of you—Weasley’s take care of their own.

 

Weasley’s take care of their own.

 

Weasley’s take care of their own—hmmm seems funny—no wrong. Seems wrong to say now, Weasley’s take care of their own. That was the reason I had to leave your side you know.

 

We were together for two years in the walls of Durmstrang. At least once a week Hermione came to visit. Each time she looked worse for wear. Until one week she didn’t show up, I called her house and got no answer so I caved in and wrote home.

 

I sent a letter to my little sister.

 

And she came to visit with Percy. They were the only two members of the family that were against sending me to Durmstrang.

 

To be honest Durmstrang was good for me but it’s a matter of pride now. I still haven’t spoken to the rest of my family. Ginny, she’s getting tired of passing news to me. She says she’ll stop soon. Maybe she won’t need to keep passing news along after today.

 

But anyway I saw them, for the first time in two years. We were strangers when we met again. I had for the first time ever regretted spending the holidays with Bulstrode.

 

Gin looked great. Hell, I wanted to go buy a bat; I saw the way Dean and the rest of them were looking at her. My baby sister! Little ickle Ginny grew tits.

 

Percy had become the shortest of all of the Weasley boys. He hadn’t grown at all since I left and his head had stopped at my shoulders. Percy was dressed smartly. Everything was new and shiny—he even had a cell phone. He’d just taken up some job within the government. It apparently pays well.

 

It was Ginny who told me that Herm wasn’t doing well.

 

She had lapsed into depression. It wasn’t noticeable at first, she lost some weight and her clothes began to become loose. Then she stopped taking care of herself, her hair went unwashed, she wore the same clothes repetitively until they no longer smelled clean, she didn’t sleep anymore, so dark circles dragged under her eyes, her grades plummeted so badly that she was on academic probation and it had finally gotten so bad that she tried to kill herself.

 

Her mother walked in from work earlier than usual and was able to cut her down from the noose before she suffocated. When asked the reason for her attempted suicide she said that the loneliness was killing her.

 

I knew what she meant right away. You have to understand Hermione logic to get it. You see she hates loosing and not understanding. To die slowly would mean she lost—to win she had to either overcome the depression or die on her own terms.

 

Percy asked me to go home and see her. I refused to go home but I told him I’d leave school to meet her.

 

You understand right? I had to. She had been my friend for the longest of time I couldn’t leave her.

 

I set the date for after the final exams. I’d be seventeen and I’d have all of my credits so the school could send a diploma in June. Percy sublet an apartment for Hermione and me.

 

It was all set that I move at the end of the month.

 

I didn’t mean to disappear on you. Really, the last time we spoke I tried to tell you but we ended up fucking like minks in a sack instead. It felt so good I didn’t want the moment to end so after we finished I stayed with you until you were asleep and then I cried.

 

Those two years at Durmstrang meant so much to me. I didn’t know what to expect from the outside world anymore. I didn’t know anything but the Durmstrang walls any longer… I didn’t know any touch besides yours when I left.

 

It has been five years and I still crave your hands on me although I’ve got no right to.

 

And just so you know I’m not making excuses. I’m not stringing you along until the police come because they aren’t coming, I didn’t call them. I just needed to explain to you so that I wouldn’t die with you blindly hating me.

 

Hate me for everything I’ve done to you, not just the one wrong you remember. If you hate me I’ll accept it. Its nothing less than I deserve. Just know that I’m so sorry.

 

I am so sorry.

Sorrier than you can believe.

I’m sorry I left you alone.

I’m Sorry that I caused you to be disowned by your family.

I’m sorry that you were tossed out of your home because of our kiss.

 

I know I have no right to ask your forgiveness, so I won’t. There are things I won’t apologize for also. I’m not going to apologize for staying with Hermione, she needed me and I’ll do what ever it takes to keep her alive and happy.

 

I’m not sorry about loving Harry like I did.

 

I’m not sorry about Rosie, my daughter

 

I’m not sorry about Harry, my son. It’s scary… so scary how his eyes are green. I don't know anyone in our family with green eyes but there they are… green like fresh cut grass put into a Heineken bottle and held up to the sun. Every time I look at him I feel like I’m getting another chance somehow.

 

I love my kids even if I wish Rose had gray eyes and Harry looked a bit like you.

 

I won’t apologize for loving you either… I still love you, Draco.

 

I won’t resist and I won’t even try to talk you out of this. I deserve the barrel that’s pointed at my face right now. I deserve it for Harry, for Hermione –hell, even for Dursley (I mean I killed a man for god’s sakes)-- but I’ll earn it from you.

 

Just please don't shoot me in front of my kids.

 

\----

 

 


End file.
